


Service

by CutToBlackest



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood, F/F, Pain, Ron Weasley Bashing, Suggestive Themes, cos who doesnt love that, ron and harry are mentioned only
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-05 22:46:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13397877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CutToBlackest/pseuds/CutToBlackest
Summary: Hermione is the Minister of Magic, and it's exactly where she wants to be.





	1. Glamour

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by a john mayer song my friend sang once

Dusk had settled over the Ministry of Magic. Those who had finished floo’d away, or disapparated. All but a stray few, a stray few who had more business to attend to than the others...especially the esteemed Minister of Magic. Files, complaints, paperwork, clutter, howlers, at least a broken wand or two. All of it littered a vast wooden desk and was quickly rearranged with the tired flick of a wand. Hermione sighed, nearly collapsing on her desk as she scowled at the clock. She should have been in her flat by now, which was located secretly within a muggle complex. She may have the perks and glamour of being Minister, but being at Hogwarts for so long, and thus working within the magical Ministry, had made her miss her muggle comforts. She stood with a scrape of the chair against the floor, gathered her things, and trudged out the door.

Debating the floo, Hermione decided to apparate from outside her office. Truly Minister perks. With a pull to her gut, she landed in a muggle alleyway, walking like nothing had happened into the bustling street of London. She had decided to appear a small ways away from her flat for a brisk evening walk to clear her head. Too many problems, too many yammering, sniveling purebloods demanding to speak about this or that, all seemingly insignificant to her. Holding Minister position for as long as she had was..grating. Getting old, as it were. And so was she. Or at least that’s what it felt like. Purebloods tended to last a lot longer, but as she was approaching fifty, she felt like she’d had enough. She wanted to settle down. Be rid of all the bustle and the migraines, no matter how many muggle pills she popped in private before meetings.

She turned a corner swiftly, caught up in her own self-pity, and nearly plowed over an elderly woman. Barely having half a mind to help, she muttered an apology before streaking past, making a beeline to her home. A migraine was full force, every sound and light and body around her tossing logs to the fire. This wasn’t her best idea. She turned another sharp corner, into an alley, to apparate straight to her home. But before she could even think the incantation, a figure stepped out of the dark, pulled Hermione close around the waist, and apparated the both of them into the night.


	2. Vintage

The lurch in her stomach was more severe, and she tried to remain calm as to not become splinched, and the arm around her waist was firm. The world spun and the duo was deposited roughly on a dark shore, the pebbles slick on her heels. A light breeze rolled by, and through bleary eyes, Hermione deduced it was the Black Lake. She was back at Hogwarts, but why? Before she had a chance to berate her assailant, they were gone. She spun around and saw nothing but the damp grass and the pitch darkness of the forest.

Her heart sank. She was the Minister Of Magic, for Pete's sake! How could she let herself be kidnapped so easily? And furthermore, where was her wand? She fumbled around her coat, and her case, and found nothing. She knew how to be calm during these types of situations, but her life had become cozy and lush. She had not been in real danger since her school years. And those were nearly faded from her mind.

Bending down to remove her heels, she hiked up the bank to reach the grass, dumping her case and shoes down. With one more fleeting look, she glanced around for her capturer and was met face to face with the most breathtaking view she’d seen in years. The Black Lake, and reflected upon its glistening surface, a full moon. The trees on the other bank swayed softly, and the weather was cool. Stars shone brightly, in the starkest display of black and white imaginable. She had felt...serenity. For the first time, in... God knows how long. That was most likely why she didn’t flinch when someone approached from behind, slowly making their way to stand a small ways from Hermione. She didn’t turn to look.

“If you've come to kill me, you’d be doing me a service,” she said, trying to hide the obvious twinge of fear in her voice. But the figure remained silent. Seconds pass.

“Wonderful view, isn’t it?” She spoke once more, more of a rhetorical whisper than anything. She closed her eyes and breathed in, her hands twitching involuntarily. The irony nearly made her laugh, even at a place of immense beauty, she could not relax. The figure remained silent or perhaps had gone. Hermione’s heart beat quicker.

Her ears had caught the slightest intake of breath from the other, as if they were to say something, but she heard nothing more. The figure seemed to lurch towards her, barely making a sound, before Hermione felt the touch of a wand firm against her back. She stilled and sucked in a breath. Her eyes became bleary with tears, as she tried to take in the beauty of the lake in the last fleeting moments of her life.

Yet the moment never came.

Whoever the person was, they were not prepared to kill. Funnily enough, Hermione became impatient. She opened her mouth to reprimand, but the other came closer, tracing their wand down her back as their other arm came to wrap loosely around the Minister’s waist. The wand still rested on her lower back, albeit without force, and felt the press of the other’s forehead against the back of her neck.

A shiver passed over her body, the person lacking any significant warmth. A sigh left her lips, eyes clenching shut in frustration, teeth nearly grit.

“Strange choice, the lake. Almost thought you were someone else.” She received more silence in return, and let the breeze take the floor for a while.

“If it’s this hard for you to Obliviate me, then I wonder if killing me really would be easier. Rather than leaving me alone for a decade.” She grumbled, placing her hand on the other’s and stepping out of their grasp. She turned to see the face of a broken woman; someone who she would rather never see again.

Bellatrix Lestrange looked old. She was approaching 80, yet even for a pureblood, looked worn. Gone were any real indicators of her time in prison, but new, more subtle marks littered her face. A time spent in a figurative cell. After spending years piecing herself together from her assumed death, one of which was excruciatingly painful in itself, she had returned...out of place. Her body may have been whole, perhaps better than before, but her mind had become a place of endless torment. Gone was her insanity, and instead she was cursed with crippling self-awareness of her actions and thoughts of which she had never faced before, even in her youth.

If she had appealed to the Ministry, begged to be accepted as a normal citizen, they would have been shocked that the old Bellatrix had been replaced with that of good stature and sorrowful eyes. They would have never believed her. She went into hiding, reading news about a new Minister, to whom she had then begged on her knees for forgiveness.

That was 10 years ago.


	3. Grace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tiny edit cos im a perfectionist

After Hermione became Minister, she saw less and less of her husband. He had gone cold to her, as she had many responsibilities, and had become cold herself. They broke off, though was not granted custody of her children. As if one could call it that. Hermione assumed they would attend Hogwarts for the full terms and go on to bigger things, maybe sending her an owl every once in a while. And that is how it went. She had no qualms- she had never been a big fan of children. Hermione was the best the Ministry had seen in centuries. Brightest witch of her age. And she could barely remember her children’s faces.

Along with her coldness, the ones close to her could never understand what she had endured. Maybe Harry. Harry had stayed with her, even if he was but a fleeting thought, but his visits were warm and kind. Some of the more positive times of Hermione’s life were around her friend. He would listen when she spoke of her nightmares, of her scarred flesh, her nearly severed neck. ‘She’s gone, Hermione. She’s gone.’ He’d tell her through her tears. Until one night, she had learned that no, she was not gone.

Bellatrix had appeared before her in the night, just as it were now, convincingly terrible, with the intent to kill. But it was not to kill, as she learned. She had spared Bellatrix of her curses, and heard her out, as she had nothing else to do. She had nothing to hold against her besides nightmares and fleeting memories. So she obliged. Hermione listened to her apologies, as there were numerous, and watched her sink to her knees in shame. She watched her cry.

The brightest witch of her age knew this was not the same woman who had haunted her since she slithered her way into her psyche those years ago. No, this was a pitiful, lost soul who had gone to her worst enemy for comfort. And again, she obliged. Their relationship became questionably professional, what with the missing clothes some mornings and occasional bruises. It was soft, and difficult, but Hermione didn’t know what _it_ was. She began to hate herself. This was not the life she had aspired to live at youth. This woman had scarred her beyond just skin, and she woke up next to her more times than she could count. She must have been lonely. Just as pitiful as Bellatrix.

Hermione woke suddenly once, to find Bellatrix standing fully clothed, pointing her wand at her forehead. Her eyes shone with tears, even in the dark.

“If you’re going to kill me, please just be out with it. You’d be doing me a service.” Hermione spat, with less venom than she wanted. She had begun to cry against her wishes as well. Bellatrix staggered slightly.

“I cause you more harm than good.”

“Then why even try?”

“I-...don’t....I don't know. I just don’t want you to...-” Her words caught in her throat and were replaced with a choked sound, almost a sob. 

“Then Obliviate me, if that’s what you really want. Either way, I’d be happier for it.” Hermione glared in the dark, her voice wobbly, not as stern as she wanted. She would never face that fact that she did not mean those words. Her eyes were wet with tears. And yet, she could barely pinpoint over what exactly. Every time she looked at Bellatrix, she was reminded of the monster she had used to be. Every time she pulled her close and kissed her softly, she felt like she was lying to herself, betraying everything she stood for, especially as the Minister of Magic. 

Yet she didn’t think she would rather have anything else. 

If anything, Hermione was taking advantage of her. She was a changed woman, gone was any sort of hatred, she only held remorse, and channeled it through her newfound emotion. She wasn’t stable. Hermione relished in her company, regardless of who the company was. This made her feel guilty, and hated herself more for it. If she really wanted to make things right, she would Obliviate Bellatrix instead. Or kill herself. Bellatrix had sacrificed everything to make things right, and Hermione used her as a drug to ease the pain of her own loneliness.

All of these thoughts swam through Hermione’s brain, and tears ran freely down her face. She couldnt stand to look at Bellatrix any longer. Bellatrix sighed, lowered her wand and steeled herself as she watched Hermione break down. She moved close and gently cradled Hermione’s cheek, rubbing her thumb carefully beneath her eye to catch the tears there. The most honest, broken smile Hermione had ever seen graced her features, and with a crack, she was gone.


	4. Silver

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i used a drabble i had written a while ago for this because...because im lazy. linear stories are for suckers.

The year was 1998. The young Hermione Granger was back at Hogwarts to finish her final year. She was succeeding. She was focused; driven, even. And yet...

Nobody would ever come outright and ask what had happened. Nobody would actually speak of their curiosity. They spoke of it in the way they stared when they saw the faint letters. The way they voiced their apologies like it's some leech on her skin, as if it would pry off from what her classmates spewed time and time again; pity, regret, remorse, fear. She should be grateful, really. Not for the mark, but for the people who try and ease her burden with compassion.

Yet it was difficult to see compassion, all she saw in the underwhelming apologies was selfishness. They weren’t saying sorry to her, they're sorry they had to see it. She carried the burden, not them. The memory of the apology will fade but the scar scarcely does. Her skin is marred and bumpy, no smooth delicate white was left, like the scrape of a kitchen knife or the splinter of a backyard fence.

No, she carried a weight so heavy it could make her drop with anguish, one pushing down on her dominant forearm, the other pressing into her neck in a way that silences her cries. At night, she replayed the scene. The dark manor. The grip on her waist. She expected to cope, to see it as a tattoo of victory. She wanted to turn to love it, to wear it proudly. But she didn’t feel pride, oh no. She felt such a deep seeded shame the silver that once ripped her raw would never be able to reach, even if it had slipped through layers of her skin to the bone. Like every waking second was a nightmare, even if it paled in comparison to her actual ones.

An old friend discussed it with her once. She offered a cure, a glamour that would heal the skin, as if it was face value. A loony sort, that one. And yet, she felt rage. She couldn't hide it. Life could change, she could change, she could fall and drown in sorrow and die in hidden chains, and it would still be there. It would be there after she bloated and mummified 6 feet under, it would be there after nature's quick work was made. Until dust remained, and plants grew from her. And it would stay. Engraved in a mind long gone and a body since decayed.

She knew it meant nothing compared to the students who had lost loved ones. She knew SHE was the selfish one. Hermione prayed that someday, she would never have to carry this weight with her. Prayed that with time, her dreams would only be wisps of curling black smoke and the glint of silver.

She got her wish.

Seeing Bellatrix after a decade of nothing was...alarming, to Hermione. Yet held a comfort. She hadn’t been more than a cold husk of paperwork and lackluster decrees for the span of the time Bellatrix had been gone. And Hermione could tell by the shadow in her eyes and the lines in her face that Bellatrix had been busy.

They stood facing each other on the grass near the pebbled bank, Hermione attempting to keep her face stern. Tears bubbled out anyways, and Bellatrix flinched. Hermione pondered on her own opinion of the former Death Eater during that year of 1998. During the decade that she had been alone, she had traced over her burdened arm countless times. Her burden had become her crutch. Things could change, she could change, and it would still be there. The evil wound tying them together. What once was a tool for torture was now the only sense of life that was breathed into Hermione’s body. And to think- she had used Bellatrix for her own loneliness.

Hermione had eventually shut her out, however. A long decade of nothing but ice wore her down. She had no patience for Bellatrix to pull her on a string like this. She realized how ironic that was. She had taken advantage of Bellatrix’s newfound emotions, and like the heartless monster she found herself to be, the roles were switched.

This much may had been true, but Hermione came to realize that Bellatrix was her past, present, and future. If one had Obliviated the other, it wouldn’t help. They were damned to be broken and lonely souls respectively. But if they were to be damned, they had best be damned together. The proof was on her skin.

Hermione stepped forward, threw away her ice and her pride, and slowly wrapped her arms around Bellatrix’s middle.

“Where the bloody hell have you been, you absolute idiot,” she murmured into the skin of Bellatrix’s neck.

Bellatrix returned the gesture tentatively, yet gave in, squeezing Hermione closer. She gripped her shoulder, eyes squeezed shut, and let out a shuddering breath. Her face softened, yet held some strain, as if conflicted.

“I never meant to cause you grief,” she murmured into Hermione’s hair. She only received a choked sob in return.

“That night, when I left...I thought you would never want to see me again,” She pulled back, and wiped the tears from Hermione’s face.

“...Perhaps I don’t mean everything I say,” Hermione cracked a tiny smile, which was not lost in Bellatrix’s eyes, but not returned.

“I decided I needed to...figure out who I was supposed to be,”

_You’re supposed to be with me_ was what Hermione was going to say, but she held her tongue. No use sounding like a school girl, selfishly voicing her wishes outright.

“Please...take us home, Bella..”

A tug to the gut, and the Black Lake stood alone once more.


	5. Stained

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so...ive decided this wont be a quick fic. this is sort of my guinea pig story, because i have never written something that wasnt linear before. but nothing is set in stone, its up to interpretation when exactly things are taking place. eventually, youll know how it ends before it actually does, and even then, the end might have already happened.

_The Minister of Magic was dead._

_“This Friday evening, the Minister of Magic Hermione Jean Granger was declared deceased upon her discovery in her muggle flat. The time of death was recent. The entire wizarding community, including the Ministry, is reeling from this outrageous and sudden turn of events. The cause of de a t h_   
_w a-“_

_Pale hands gripped the newspaper. Pale hands covered in blood. The words began to reach off the page, running in black and red down onto the pavement of an empty street. The carrier shook the newspaper in anger, trying to make it show the rest of the sentence. Dead from what? DEAD FROM WHAT? A sudden gust blew, and dead center on the front page was Hermione, blowing a kiss to the reader before falling down in a flash of light. Red seeped down her sleeve and stained the newspaper unreadable._

_Bellatrix gasped, dropping the newspaper, attempting to wipe her hands, but it was already sinking in. No matter how hard she tried to wipe them off on her sleeves, nothing came off. The blood began to turn hot, near boiling, and she sunk to her knees and started to laugh. A low, sickening snicker, bubbling out into a coarse laugh, and eventually into a sharp high pitched cackle._

_A figure stepped out into the dark empty street. It was her sister, Narcissa. No, wait, it was Hermione. No... Sirius. Their face was a blank slate covered in separate films of people, a slight image of what they might have been. They approached Bellatrix, who felt her cheeks hot with tears similar to the scalding blood. She found her hands chained to the ground, and tossed her head back to give the figure a haughty grin, and found her neck jabbed with a wand. The figure grinned back at her, and she found herself filled with gut sinking fear._

_“Wait...wait don’t-“ was what she tried to say, yet she heard herself continue to laugh until her throat became sore and raw. The figure gave her a quick once-over, and their face became white and snake-like._

**_AVADA KEDAV-_ **

 

Bellatrix sat up so quickly she may have given herself whiplash and was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Her breaths were ragged, and she fumbled with the pathetic excuse for sheets to find that even in the dim light, her hands were pale and smooth as always. Not a single drop of blood was anywhere in the dingy room she had taken refuge in. Nowhere near anything magical. A shanty on the coast, some sort of B&B. Muggles who barely even glanced at her when she walked in, probably used to strange visitors, or the homeless.

 

She pushed her hair out of her face, swallowing thickly, to find that it was the small hours of the morning, where the sun was barely creeping over the bay, and even through the cracked window, one could call it amusingly pretty. She fell back onto the mattress with a thud of the worn springs, and stared at the ceiling, her dream swirling in her mind. She had never had a dream as physically demanding as this, even with her time in Azkaban. No use trying to sleep now, she reckoned, and slid out of bed.

 

Pulling on a dark cloak and boots, she eased open the door, and crept down the stairs to find one of the B&B patrons asleep in one of the dining room chairs, if you could even call it a dining room. He startled her, but after a quick inspection, she thought him out cold. Her stomach growled, and she silently made her way to the kitchen. She knew stealing from these people was wrong, but she hadn’t had a proper meal in months.

 

After finding nothing of real nutritional value, she turned her attention to the study. Something nagged against the back of her mind, but was outdone by the nagging of her stomach. A small search of the study had turned up a lock box, in which the key or even a wand wasn’t necessary. She whispered the charm, and collected the bills and coins within, oblivious to how much was actually there. It didn’t matter to her.

 

Suddenly the space was illuminated by a bright LED lantern, nearly blinding Bellatrix. The owner of the lantern, the innkeeper, was also holding some sort of long metal device, some sort of weapon, she assumed. She froze, waiting for the other to make a move. She thought about apparating, but didn’t know if that was traceable now. Her teeth grit.

 

“If you let me go, you won’t be harmed,” she tried to say, her hand raising to come to her side where her wand was. Her own wand had been lost ages ago, and she had happened to...Come across a new one.

 

This was a similar situation.

 

Also, similar to last time, the man did not cooperate. He placed the lantern down and clicked the weapon, pointing it at Bellatrix, who whipped her wand out and sent the weapon flying into the wall. With a loud bang that startled Bellatrix, the man crumpled to the floor, his leg obviously injured somehow. Bellatrix didn’t understand what had happened, and the man began to howl in pain. She rushed to him, and saw his leg had begun to drip and ooze with blood through his faded jeans.

 

Was there a healing spell she knew? She had to know at least one. But as she wracked her brain, and the blood came faster, she banished all thought and placed the wand between her teeth, and pressed into the man’s leg with her hands to try and stop the bleeding. By now, the whole B&B was awake...and the man at the table had awoken. He blinked out of his stupor and peered in, instantly gasping and coming near the man as well. Bellatrix kept her hands firm and her face was hidden in the shadow of the lantern.

 

“Step aside, ma’am,” the man said, shouldering her out of the way, as he dropped brown liquid from a vial onto the man’s leg. the wound began to heal, and a piece of metal was pushed out, rolling onto the floor. The innkeeper had passed out from pain by now, and Bellatrix tensed.

 

Before the man could turn around, Bellatrix had stood and raised her wand. The man sighed, and gave her a cocky laugh, but once he turned to see her face, his skin went white. He froze in place.

 

“Is he dead?” She said quickly, the lighting setting off the gauntness of her face, making her appear as a living ghost.

 

The man flinched.

 

“I said IS HE DEAD?” She yelled, her wand tight in her hands.

 

The man tentatively placed his fingers over the muggle’s neck, and froze once more. Bellatrix became impatient. But she knew the answer. Her arm fell, and she let out a growl in the back of her throat. She stepped closer to the man, and gently pulled him closer to her by the collar.

 

“Obliviate.”

 

***

 

The sun had risen now, painting the sky in a bouquet of colors. Bellatrix was stepping along the shore, her pockets a tad bit heavier, including a new dragon string wand and some muggle money, but not much else.

 

She bent down by the sea and placed her hands in the cool water, and watched it stain the beach red.


	6. Convenience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heed the rating  
> *edit because it was inconsistent with the timeline i literally created. i am a good author i swear

Landing back in her muggle flat was like being knocked back into a dream. Memories of their time came flooding back to Hermione.

 

She hugged Bellatrix harder, 10 years of desolation and loneliness came crashing down, and Bellatrix was just the observer, watching and holding Hermione like if she let go, they’d drift apart.

 

Minutes passed as they stood in the middle of Hermione’s living room, which had seen better days, what with how uncharacteristically untidy it was. Hermione didn’t care. She didn’t dare to pull away, and the anger she had felt earlier was ebbing away out of her mind, her world becoming the encasing blackness of Bellatrix’s body.

 

Bellatrix did pull back however, brushing he hair out of Hermione’s face, wiping her tears, looking at her with an unmatched sadness, and a smile that meant more than face value. Hermione nearly sobbed.

 

“I...I’m sorry.” Bellatrix pushed out, almost as quiet as a whisper. Hermione looked over her face, expecting to find every answer to the never-ending questions shooting off in her mind, and found nothing but the new creases in her face.

 

“...I know.” She sighed, suddenly becoming exhausted. “I didn’t...think you'd ever come back,” Hermione finished, pulling her arms back to cross against her stomach. Bellatrix frowned, and lead her to the couch, seeing the bags under Hermione’s eyes grow darker by the second. They sat in silence, the ticking of her muggle clock aiding the anxiety tugging at Bellatrix’s gut.

 

Bellatrix moved to pull Hermione into another embrace, but Hermione flinched.

 

“Why did you?”

 

“Wh..what-“

 

“Why did you come back?” Hermione glared through dark reddened eyes, her voice wavering and increasing in volume. As if one slip up more and she’d be a banshee, screaming at Bellatrix until her throat went raw.

 

But she held her composure, and waited for an answer.

 

***

 

2 am, like clockwork. Hermione only slept 4 hours a day, 12-2am, and 1-3pm. She woke up like every other night, feeling cold like she had water dumped on her. And she was having such a lovely dream, too. Hermione sat up gasping for breath and realized she was not alone in her bed. It shouldn’t have been surprising to her, as she had woken up with a full bed for months now. Her eyes glazed, she laid back down and watched the intruder’s chest rise and fall, watched the curve of her face, the curve of her lips, the curve of her chest...It really was quite a lovely dream indeed.

 

She scooted over, her hands moving through her bleary haze, and she wrapped an arm around Bellatrix’s middle, her leg hooking around the other’s. She buried her face in her neck, hoping that for once, she’d be able to fall asleep again. Sleep never came, but Bellatrix did stir, nearly pulling Hermione on top of her.

 

She tried not to feel anything, she really did, but Bellatrix’s leg was in a precarious position. Her eyes became hazy, and she pressed a chaste kiss to her neck, which woke her up nearly immediately.

 

Bellatrix’s eyes flicked open, nearly as black as the room itself, and she took a moment to process their situation. Her eyes met with hazy brown, a look Bellatrix would be a fool not to know.

 

“Hermione-“

 

“Mm...” She didn't respond, just buried her face in Bellatrix’s neck once more. Her heart beat quicker. This felt wrong, Bellatrix was felt like she didn’t give Hermione enough time to accept her change. The last time they’d seen each other was on the battlefield, where she had been disintegrated. She felt four months was not an adequate amount of time for Hermione to accept her apology, and nearly two decades wasn't nearly enough time for her to even begin to forgive her after what she had done....Let alone be...

 

Hermione  _had_   been the one who invited her to stay. To stay in her bed. In which she was, in fact, slowly grinding down on Bellatrix’s thigh. Bellatrix swallowed thickly, her own emotions swirling in her stomach, amongst other things.

 

Bellatrix let it happen, she let Hermione kiss her neck lazily, let her make the occasional noise. But she only had so much patience, and with a quick rearrangement, Bellatrix was leaning over Hermione’s body, with her legs wrapped around her.

 

Hermione gave her a pleading look, her pupils shot, her hands laying uselessly by her head.

 

Bellatrix leaned down, a breath away from her lips but stopped. She bent back to look down at her.

 

“Is this...is this just, convenience, or something else?” Bellatrix murmured, she wasn’t a fool at all, she had known how Hermione had been living since she became Minister, hell, even before that. She was lonely, so lonely that taking in the person who scarred her for life was like rooming with an old college friend. Hermione’s eyes widened slightly, confused. They stayed like that for a small while, Hermione shrinking under Bellatrix’s gaze. Yet, after a small moment, her eyes became lidded, and she nearly smirked.

 

She knew what it was. She knew what it was when she grabbed Bellatrix by the shirt collar and pressed their lips together, feeling Bellatrix take charge and push her into the mattress. She knew what it was, when Bellatrix bit down on her neck after their clothes had been long gone, and her body no longer felt cold.

 

It was complete, absolute, glaring convenience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anyone is curious about the timeline, i would begrudgingly post a shitty one i made on my tumblr but... spaces are filling in. im itching to write bella IC as she is in the canon but, even i'm impatient. comments make my month <3


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